


lovely night

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Implied Enemies to Lovers, Inspired By La La Land's Lovely Night, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I thought you’d follow me,” Iwaizumi says as Tooru catches up to him, slowing down his pace and turning his head a little. There’s a sly smile on his face as they trudge down the hillside. “Am I the first one to reject you?”“Are you?” Tooru questions, his heels clacking on the floor as they walk.





	lovely night

**Author's Note:**

> i have no explanation i listened to lovely night from the la la land soundtrack (which was an awful, boring movie but i love putting my otp into the songs thanks) and then i couldnt?? stop thinking about iwaoi hence, this masterpiece of a shitpost

The man that had come to the bar looks wholly unimpressed with the offerings of todays customers; he stares at his whiskey in solitude and swirls it around in his cup with all the eagerness of a child going to the dentist. Tooru had thought once, maybe twice, about going up to him, then got distracted by his friends who’d pull on his shoulders and hand him drinks.

His feet now hurt from the heels he’d somehow been roped into wearing- it was a dare, then a bet, and then Tooru never quite got around to taking them off, so now he sits with his feet in red pumps and wonders where all his friends have gotten off to. 

It’s as he's scanning the bar for them that his eyes once again fall on the man alone at the counter. He’s got a broad back and a serious face, creased at the corners of his eyes with what must be laughter lines, but he looks so stern he could hardly be one to laugh all that much. 

Tooru’s eyes narrow on the man’s throat as he takes a sip. 

He slides over to the man, leaning his forearms on the counter, taking the weight off his heels. He says, “you don’t look so happy,” and the man looks up at him in both disregard and disdain. 

“I’m not looking for anyone,” the man says. He means it. He’s not even trying to play hard to get, there’s a sort of dead look in his eyes that just speaks of him being here to drink and lament over his woes into the amber liquid. 

Tooru persists. It’s not even fully dark yet; the summer holidays meaning that for college students like them, the night is young and has barely started. “I’m not anyone,” he replies, and slides into the seat next to him.

The man cracks a smile but it’s in loathing; the corner of his mouth quirks upwards but his eyes do not follow. “Are you _that_ used to getting what you want?”

Tooru shivers, his eyes slide from his eyes to his mouth to the curve of his neck. He crosses his legs and his red heels knock against the wood of the bar, drawing attention to them. That had been unintentional, but the man’s eyes follow the noise and widen slightly. Tooru looks down at them both in hatred and in thanks. They’re really uncomfortable but-

“Those look like they’re hurting your feet,” the man continues. He turns his attention back to his whiskey. “Does it help you feel validated?”

Tooru’s eye twitches. Well, hell, then. He didn’t even like them. This man may look cute and scruffy and jawline to die for, but he couldn’t seem to appreciate the finer things in life, like wearing red heels on a Friday night, and talking to someone who didn’t like you for the sake of it. 

“You're kind of unpleasant,” Tooru says truthfully. “Are you always this brutish, or did someone dump you?”

The man spares him another glance. “I’ve been told I rub people off the wrong way.”

Tooru puts a finger to his lips and nods. “I think I’ve been told the same thing.”

“I can see that,” the man’s gaze wanders, and then drifts away. “You’re here a lot.”

“So you’ve been watching?”

“No,” the man pushes his glass around. “You’re just _really_ obvious. People come to you all the time; doesn’t the attention get tiring?”

“Never,” Tooru finds himself in the attention people give him here. He’s pretty and cute and just the right sort of daring for anyone who comes into this bar, and- 

“-do you know who you are without it?”

Tooru’s train of thought stops dead. He think he should give up on this man who has not appreciated him whatsoever since he first came up to this seat, and yet he doesn’t. “Maybe I should know your name before you start psychoanalysing me.”

The man is once again, unimpressed. “Iwaizumi.”

“Well, then, Iwa-chan, I’m Oikawa. It’s a pleasure.”

“It’s really not,” Iwaizumi knocks back the rest of his drink and gets out of his seat. Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, he waves a short goodbye at Tooru before pushing through the crowd and stepping outside. 

Tooru taps his fingers on his chin. He thinks. 

Then he’s getting up and moving too.

* * *

 

“I thought you’d follow me,” Iwaizumi says as Tooru catches up to him, slowing down his pace and turning his head a little. There’s a sly smile on his face as they trudge down the hillside. “Am I the first one to reject you?”

“Are you?” Tooru questions, his heels clacking on the floor as they walk. 

Iwaizumi stops walking and gestures at the view. Tooru liked this bar not only because of the fact that it was cheap, clean and wholly gay, but the location it was in was beautiful too. It sat on a hill that overlooked the sleepy university town. The sun is setting now, it’s turning the white buildings a cotton candy pink. 

“What a view,” he says, and leans over the edge of the railing. It creaks, but neither of them do anything. “It’s tailor-made for two. What a shame those two are…you and I.”

“What a shame?” Tooru repeats, strolling past Iwaizumi and tapping his feet on the tarmac. 

“Some other couple might’ve loved this swirling sky,” Iwaizumi continues, putting his hands into his pockets and resuming his march down the hill. “But it _had_ to be you and I,” and he sends Tooru a look out of the corner of his eyes. “And you're not the type for me.”

Tooru taps his feet once more then goes after him, stepping around him to put a hand out on his chest and stop him in his tracks. “You say there’s nothing here,” he rolls his eyes. “But I think I’ll be clear about this; I’m the one making that call.”

Iwaizumi huffs and rocks back on his feet. “You sure?”

“And though you look so cute,” he continues, dusting off something imaginary from his coat. “In your polyester coat.”

“It’s wool.”

“You’re right, I’d never fall for you at all,” Tooru turns away from him and walks down the hill without him. “This could’ve appealed to someone not in heels,” he gestures at his sparkly pumps and nearly trips over a rock he doesn’t see. “Or to anyone who felt that there was some chance of romance.”

Iwaizumi picks up the pace, but still hangs a little bit behind him. He shrugs his shoulders when Tooru fixes him with a stare and doesn’t even crack another smile. 

“But I’m frankly feeling nothing,” Tooru waves his hands and looks back at the road. 

“Is that so?” suddenly, Iwaizumi’s words are right at his ear. Tooru breaks out in goosebumps and nearly trips getting away from him.

“Or it could be less than nothing,” he says scathingly and covers his ears. 

“Good to know,” Iwaizumi taps his forehead and pushes past him. They’ve reached the bottom of the hill and are now staring at an intersection “So you agree then?”

“What a waste of a lovely night,” Tooru huffs and takes a left. Iwaizumi watches him go, then continues on straight.

* * *

 

“He’s back again,” Hanamaki gestures at the stern man in the booth. “The one who royally rejected you.”

Tooru looks up from his shot glass and sees Iwaizumi sitting at the same seat he was in last week.As he look up, Iwaizumi and him make eye contact. 

A smirk curled its way across Iwaizumi's face. He holds the eye contact for a little while longer, then turns to his drink once more. He lifts a hand to give a semblance of a wave. 

“That _bitch,”_ Tooru swears, and stands.


End file.
